


The Good, the Bad, and the Groovy

by acehandles



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, crowley and aziraphale are Bigly in love, im writing this just for the final chapter ahsjk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2020-09-19 10:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acehandles/pseuds/acehandles
Summary: The Gavotte is out of style, so Aziraphale needs a new type of dance to learn. He decides to join the beginners tap class for adults at his local dance school. He’s not the best by a long shot, but he’s tied with Crowley for gayest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the new story I mentioned in the last chapter of Omens Unsolved is here! You don’t need to have read that to understand this, but my headcanons introduced in that fic may be referenced here. This fic is kinda like... what they got up to between chapters of Omens Unsolved, and vice versa, in my head.  
Whether you read the first fic or not, enjoy this one!

Before Armageddidn’t, Aziraphale’s bookshop had been notoriously difficult for the general populace to access. This was mostly because he had possibly the most confusing set of opening hours known to mankind. Since almost losing the shop (technically _actually_ losing it, in fact), and also the whole planet, the opening times had changed. Aziraphale’s shop was now open for business precisely three hours and twenty seven minutes of every week, in one unannounced block of time between nine in the morning and six in the afternoon, on any day except Sunday.

It was not, currently, such a block of time.

So, with the bookshop safely closed, and Crowley off being wily and demonic (his current plan, so far as Aziraphale could tell, involved timing a wide range power cut with the climactic ending of some TV show or another), Aziraphale was in want of something to do.

If the angel were honest with himself, what he _wanted_ to do was the Gavotte. It had been quite a while since he’d had the opportunity to do the dance (well, to perform it properly, in a club, at least), and it was always fun to be able to dance. Regrettably, it didn’t seem as though anyone in the current century was capable of doing the dance.

Thus: a compromise. If Aziraphale couldn’t join a club to do the Gavotte, he would simply have to learn a more modern dance, and join a club for that, instead.

All this meant that Aziraphale was currently using his time to search through youtube on his outdated computer, looking for videos of different dance styles in search of the perfect new dance for him.

So far he had seen street, which seemed to involve a lot of spinning on the floor - something Aziraphale thought perhaps Crowley might be good at, given his serpent nature - and ballet, which the angel had been considering, until he realised that it required a level of flexibility that his corporation was not capable of. The next video on the autoplay (Crowley may think it was a particularly evil demonic creation, but Aziraphale frankly found it easier than searching for more videos) was moving on now to a different dance style. Tap, apparently.

As with all previous videos, the tap dance started off with a group of dancers standing in a studio, in a neat formation. Unlike the other videos, the music didn’t kick in right away. It took Aziraphale a while to realise, at first assuming that the tapping noise was simply an intro to a song, but eventually he noticed that the sound was perfectly in time with the dancers’ shoes hitting the floor. That explained the name, and, in Aziraphale’s opinion, was quite a novel concept.

Now, the music kicked in, and the group of dancers launched into a high-speed, high-energy dance that involved a lot of snappy foot movements, with comparatively fewer arm actions. It reminded Aziraphale in some ways of the Gavotte, although he had never considered doing it at such a speed before. Each tap was perfectly on beat, creating sound in a way that matched with and at times enhanced the music.

By the end of the video, Aziraphale’s mind was made up. It looked as though it may take a while to learn, but he had time. Tap was the style for him.

“Right,” the angel said to himself, clicking onto the search bar at the top of the page. “Places to learn tap dance... please...” he dictated, typing away into the youtube search. Luckily for Aziraphale, his politeness was appreciated, and instead of searching through videos, his computer took the query to google instead.

It took a few minutes of scrolling and checking out websites, but eventually Aziraphale found what he was looking for. A dance school advertising tap classes for adults, starting the next week, with a note on the site claiming that it would be beginner-friendly, no prior dancing experience required. The location of Bella’s School of Dance was quite far, but still walkable, and Aziraphale suspected that there may be a convenient bus route that could get him there, too (assuming, of course, that Crowley didn’t decide to give him a lift).

For now, though, Crowley was busy, so Aziraphale would have to walk to the dance school by himself. Well, he didn’t _have_ to go; there was a telephone number on the website for him to call and register interest that way, but Aziraphale was a fan of doing things the old fashioned way, if it was at all possible. So, with a quick check to the other lesson times on the site to confirm that the school would be open for business, Aziraphale set out from his bookshop and into the streets of London.

As predicted, the journey took about twenty minutes on foot, not including the time Aziraphale took to help an old lady cross the road, and to assist in picking up the shopping of a man whose flimsy plastic bag (Aziraphale was pretty sure that Crowley was responsible for the amazingly breakable handles to shopping bags) had snapped, sending all his groceries tumbling down the street. The day was pleasant enough, so Aziraphale didn’t mind walking, but he made a mental note to check bus timetables later, for when the weather inevitably turned.

The dance school was, to the average passer-by, an unassuming building, differing from the others on the street mainly by the small sign above the door with the school name on it. Aziraphale stepped through the door, causing a small bell to ring as he opened it, and was immediately faced with a small reception area. There were a few chairs, mostly empty, and an office with a glass screen through which a woman could be seen, and a buzzer outside inviting everyone to ring for assistance. Aziraphale obeyed the buzzer’s command.

Immediately, the woman in the office looked up, revealing a kind looking face, unobscured by her brown hair, which was neatly tied back in a ponytail. She smiled, and gestured Aziraphale into the room.

“Ah, hello,” Aziraphale said as he stepped into the room, giving a little wave (he may have had 6000 years of practise, but unfortunately that didn’t prevent him from being awkward at times), “Are you...” He gestured to the wall, where the dance school’s logo, the highly imaginative classic School Name In Circle Round Silhouette Of Dancers, was printed.

After a moment in which she followed Aziraphale’s gaze, the woman nodded. “Yes, Bella Jones,” she confirmed, “nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Aziraphale returned, with a small, but genuine, smile. When Bella didn’t speak again, he took his cue to explain himself. “I saw your website, the, the tap classes, for beginners. I was wondering if there were still spaces available.”

Bella nodded. “There’s plenty of space,” she confirmed, “do you want to give me your details now? I can register you.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

They spent the next few minutes going through the usual information, mobile number (that particular gift from Crowley kept coming in handy, though not usually for its intended purpose), email, and a quick discussion on the details of payment.

“Anything else?” Bella asked once Aziraphale was all signed up.

The angel took a moment to think. “Is there any uniform?” he eventually wondered. The gentleman’s club had had a dress code, one that Aziraphale’s suit had stretched the rules of, but he doubted that quite the same formalities would apply here.

“No, just come in your usual exercise clothes.” Bella must have caught onto Aziraphale’s confusion, for she continued: “You know, sweatpants, a t-shirt... oh, and you’ll need a pair of tap shoes, of course. I have a few spare pairs,” she gestured to a box in the corner of the room, which was indeed full of tap shoes, “but I don’t think there’s any in your size. Feel free to look, though.”

Aziraphale shook his head at the offer, trying to envision the outfit Bella was describing. An image of Gabriel came to mind, which the angel quickly dismissed. He’d just have to get Crowley to assist him. “I’ll just buy some,” he said, then took a step backwards. “Well, I’ll see you...”

“Next Wednesday, quarter past seven,” Bella supplied. “It’s on the website, if you forget.”

Aziraphale smiled, thanked the dance teacher one last time, then exited the office. Now, the reception area was a little more crowded, with a class of children having just finished their lesson, and their respective parents helping them out of ballet shoes and into coats. He weaved through the crowd, giving out apologies as he nearly bumped into several people, before making it out of the building and back onto the street.

Aziraphale checked his watch. It was about time for a late lunch, or perhaps an early dinner. He picked his phone from his pocket, scrolled through his contacts till he hit Crowley, followed by a red heart emoji, and used the device for the purpose for which it was bought: inviting his demon out to eat.

— — —

Less than an hour later saw angel and demon dining at their usual spot at the Ritz, one glass of wine each into their evening and on trajectory to become much more drunk.

“So,” Aziraphale said between bites of his (most delicious) food, “how did the television thing go?”

Crowley, already finished with his own main course, grinned. “Pretty well,” he said proudly, “took a bit of tempting, a few computer hacks, but I think I’ve got it. Power should go down right before the twist reveal, and I’ve even managed to swing it to come back on briefly, then shut off again before anyone can so much as make a cup of tea.”

As an angel, Aziraphale sometimes felt obligated to respond to Crowley’s demonic acts as though he were the most dastardly creature to walk the Earth. “Well done,” he praised, “that sounds quite difficult to pull off. I mean -“ his more angelic nature kicked in, “That’s perfectly evil! How could you do such a thing to those poor people.”

Crowley preened under both the praise and the admonishment. “What about you?” he asked, “Any angelic acts of the day?”

“Nothing much... oh, although! I’ll be needing your help.”

“Oh?” Crowley leant further towards Aziraphale, elbow rested on the table, and head in his hand.

“Yes.” Aziraphale explained the events of the day, his discovery of tap and his grand plans of learning the dance. “So,” he said at the end of his tale, “I need you to show me some good exercise clothes. And to help me find some tap shoes, I suppose.”

“Hmm...” Crowley leaned, impossibly, closer. “What’s the name of this dance school?”

“Bella’s School of Dance.”

“Creative,” the demon said scathingly. Then: “Alright, I’ll take you shopping tomorrow. What time?”

Aziraphale considered how late he planned to stay up drinking. “Let’s say noon; we can get lunch.”

The two spent the rest of the evening getting drunk on expensive wine, with a brief interlude to watch Crowley’s TV interruption, during which the demon himself got invested in the episode, causing him to yell in frustration at himself when the power inevitably shut off. He managed to avoid his second trap, the post-TV tea time not needed when one was busy drinking alcohol and discussing not much of anything with one’s favourite angel.

Crowley sobered up and left Aziraphale’s shop at around two in the morning, and was back again ten hours later, at twelve on the dot, with a restaurant recommendation.

“It’s a sushi place,” Crowley explained as Aziraphale clambered into the Bentley, a little faster than usual since it was drizzling slightly, “Opened a few weeks ago, but it’s already got great reviews. And it’s pretty close to a dance shop.”

Combining Crowley’s lack of regard for traffic law and his refusal to go any slower than 70 miles an hour, it was a matter of minutes before the celestial duo arrived outside Crowley’s lunch spot. Aziraphale released his iron grip on the dashboard and door of the car, and stepped out onto the kerb.

The sushi was, as promised, delicious, and before long angel and demon were stepping back out into the now properly rainy weather. Aziraphale sighed, and summoned his large, rainbow striped umbrella to himself. He put it up, and stepped closer to Crowley. “Where’s this shop of yours?”

Crowley pointed down the street, towards a shop with several mannequins in the windows. “Thought we’d get the clothes first, then the shoes.”

Aziraphale nodded, and set off, making a path through the humans on the street to get to the shop. It appeared to be the typical shop Crowley would go looking for fashion in: something where every item was overpriced simply by nature of a brand logo somewhere on it, but also somewhere where they would only stock the latest trends. The clothing also, Aziraphale noted with some level of distaste, resembled that which Gabriel might consider wearing.

Still, Aziraphale allowed himself to be led into the shop, putting down the umbrella as he entered, and walked over to the sportswear section. The angel didn’t seem particularly inclined to select an outfit for himself, so Crowley picked out a pair of sweatpants in Aziraphale’s usual preferred beige, and a t-shirt in the same pale shade of blue as his current shirt.

“Try those on,” the demon instructed, pointing Aziraphale in the direction of the changing rooms.

Aziraphale trotted off obediently, and by the time he came back out from the room decked out in the new clothes, Crowley had made a purchase of his own. The demon grinned, and held his paper, logo-emblazoned bag under one arm so he could give Aziraphale two thumbs up. “Looking good, angel.”

Aziraphale looked into a nearby mirror, gaze scrutinising. “I feel as though it’s missing something,” he admitted, tugging at the t-shirt with a frown. After a few seconds, he had an idea, and with a snap of his fingers he was wearing tartan sweatbands, on both his wrists and his head. “That’s better.”

Crowley returned Aziraphale’s beaming smile with a small smile of his own. “Come on then, go buy it.”

If Aziraphale had any need of money, and actually had to earn it, he probably would’ve been appalled at the cost of his two items. As it stood, he simply tutted at the three digit number on his receipt, and followed Crowley out of the shop, where it was no longer raining but was quite blustery still, and a bit further down the road until they came to a shop which had an assortment of leotards and ballet shoes on display.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, who nodded, then pushed open the shop door.

They were immediately greeted by a short, jovial woman, who looked to be on the older end of middle age. “What can I do for you, dears?”

“I’m looking for tap shoes.”

The shopkeeper smiled, and gestured further into the shop. There were a lot of shelves, upon which sat multiple different pairs of shoes. Crowley marched over to the wall, picking up a black pair of tap shoes with a speculative expression. Aziraphale, meanwhile, frowned; almost all of the pairs were black, and those that weren’t were black and white. He followed Crowley over to the shelf, and one quick miracle later he picked up a nice cream pair of tap shoes, with tartan laces to match his sweatbands.

“That’s odd,” the woman said, as Aziraphale took his modified shoes to the till, “I didn’t think we stocked any in this colour...”

Crowley shot Aziraphale an exasperated glance at that, to which the angel could only respond with a shrug. The shopkeeper shrugged off her confusion easily enough, though, and the shoes were bought without incident.

“When is this dance class of yours?” Crowley asked as they returned to the Bentley.

“Next Wednesday,” Aziraphale answered. “Quarter past seven, I think it was.”

Crowley nodded. “Right. I’ll pick you up. Bella’s, it was called, right?”

“Yes.” And then Aziraphale stopped speaking, too busy paying attention to the road to make sure that Crowley didn’t run anyone over.

All things considered, Aziraphale decided once he made it home without causing a traffic accident, it had been a pretty good day, and he definitely couldn’t wait to get to put his new shoes into action.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley, true to his word, was round at Aziraphale’s bookshop in good time to give the angel a lift to the first tap class. This was mostly because he’d been there since nine in the morning, alternating between lounging on the sofa in the back room in human form, and scaring off customers who found him on the shelves in snake form.

Aziraphale had been ready to go, dressed in his newly bought clothes and with his tap shoes in a bag next to him, since about six. It was now quarter to seven, and the angel was practically marching Crowley out of the shop.

“I’m telling you, angel, it won’t take a whole half hour to drive there,” Crowley said, allowing himself to be pushed out of the building and into the Bentley anyway.

“What if there’s traffic?” Aziraphale challenged, putting his shoe bag on the seat behind him.

Crowley turned to the angel, expression flat. “Do I look like the kind of person _traffic _happens to?” he asked, sounding almost offended by the idea.

Aziraphale simply gestured to the steering wheel. Crowley rolled his eyes, then started the car, going nought to ninety in a speed that would leave even the most powerful sports car green with envy. As predicted, the incredible speed the Bentley was capable of, and Crowley’s immunity to traffic laws, meant that they were pulling up outside their destination in only a few minutes.

The demon very tactfully didn’t say ‘I told you so’, and instead simply found a nearby street to park on (still illegally, though; he may not want to sully Aziraphale’s reputation by being a bad parker where his new dancing acquaintances would see him, but Crowley had his _own_ reputation to uphold). They waited there, taking it in turns to spontaneously combust the ticket machines of passing traffic wardens, until there were only five minutes before the lesson was to begin.

“Right,” Crowley said, moving to open the door. “Oh, actually -“ and then he snapped his fingers, changing his outfit so that he was wearing black trousers of the same tightness as his usual clothes, but made of a different, more stretchy material, and that he no longer had his scarf-tie. On the back seat, next to the white bag that Aziraphale had just been reaching for, appeared a similar style of bag, except in black. “Pass me my shoes, angel?”

Aziraphale blinked at the new back seat addition. “Shoes?” he repeated, opening up the bag to reveal a pair of tap shoes. “Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale beamed, turning back round with both bags in hand, “Does this mean you’re going to -“

“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley said, aiming for dismissive but not quite managing it given how the angel’s smile had caused him to start blushing, “I signed myself up for the class too. Why let you have all the dancing fun?”

Aziraphale’s response was to give Crowley that smile that the angel reserved for when he particularly appreciated something the demon had done for him, and then to give him a hug.

“Right,” the angel said, as he pulled out of the hug, still smiling, “Let’s go to this tap class.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said intelligently.

— — —

With the distraction of Crowley’s reveal, the celestial duo made it to the dancing school with only seconds to spare before the lesson was due to start. Luckily, it seemed that whatever class was before theirs was overrunning, because a classical music piece could be heard through the doors leading to the studio proper, and there were several women in exercise clothes and tap shoes milling about in the foyer.

The room was filled with chairs, so Aziraphale took a seat and started to change shoes.

“Do you know,” Crowley, who had sat down next to Aziraphale and was now wearing his unlaced shoes, said quietly, “in 6000 years I’ve never had to tie a shoelace?”

Aziraphale, a big fan of wearing real clothing rather than items he’d miracled up, tutted. “This is what you get for casting frivolous miracles,” he teased, tying his own laces with ease. “Do you want me to...”

Crowley shook his head, his shoes lacing themselves up with a wave of his hand, and sat back up properly. He nodded to Aziraphale, and the two stood up as one and walked over to the assembled women.

“Hello,” Aziraphale greeted them generally, with a polite smile, “are you all here for the tap class too?”

The first to respond was a woman with a bob, the style of which Crowley recognised immediately as his own invention, highly fashionable among those who would without hesitation attempt to get anyone who so much as mildly inconvenienced them fired. He forgot the excuse he’d used to justify that creation amongst the rest of Hell, but really it had been a warning signal for service industry workers everywhere. “Yes,” she confirmed, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I’m Angelina, but you can call me Angel. And you are?”

Crowley scoffed. “I think fucking _not_.”

Before Angelina could parse the words, Aziraphale interrupted: “I’m Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.”

“Anthony J Crowley,” Crowley amended, remembering his decision to not get in anyones bad books.

By now, everyone else present had turned round to see the newcomers. “So,” a middle aged woman with a cheap imitation of Angelina’s haircut - all of the implications but none of the style - said, “what classes are _your _children in?”

Aziraphale gave a short laugh. “Oh, we don’t -“

“_My_ daughter is in grade three,” Angelina interrupted, “she’s very good, she’s sure to get a solo in this year’s show.” Then, apparently gaining some semblance of awareness as to how her butting in could be considered rude, she repeated the question.

“We... don’t have children,” Aziraphale revealed, “I just found this dance school on the internet.” Both women looked slightly put out at that, possibly by the idea that an outsider could gain entrance to the school without having a child there first. The angel turned to face the newcomer to the conversation. “I’m Aziraphale. And what’s your name?”

“Moira,” she replied, frowning. “Ah see ruh...” she sounded out, mumbling his name for a moment. “Where’s that from then? Well. You look more like a Paul, to me,” she eventually concluded, then turned her judging gaze over to Crowley. “And you?”

“Anthony,” Crowley said, giving Moira an unimpressed look.

Before the demon could make himself any enemies, a door off to the right of the room opened, and a small group of children in leotards and ballet shoes walked out. After the doorway was cleared of children, Bella popped her head round the door, and smiled at the group. “Come on in for the tap!” she announced brightly.

Introductions forgotten, Aziraphale turned to Crowley with a smile that banished all thoughts of their two new acquaintances from the demon’s head. “Come on, Crowley!”

The group filed into the dance studio. It was a pretty typical space: sprung floor, mirrors covering the wall opposite the door, and two bars (one at waist height for an adult, one a few inches lower down) that ran the whole way across the mirror. Bella was already stood by the mirror, facing away from it to address the class.

“Okay,” Bella said once everyone was in and the door closed behind them. “Welcome to tap! I’m assuming that everyone here is a beginner -“ There was a chorus of nods, “- so we’re gonna do a brief warm up, then learn some of the basics!”

Bella walked over to a speaker in the corner of the room, and set her phone to play through it. A peppy pop song started up.

Aziraphale leant in to Crowley. “Is this bebop?” he stage whispered, as Bella started up some arm stretches.

Crowley just about managed to stifle his laugh, turning it instead into a strange cough, which resulted in Angelina, and another woman who’s name he’d yet to learn, turning their heads to look at him. “No, angel.”

The class continued stretching out their arms and legs to the time of the music, which was increasingly upbeat and lyrically focused seemingly only on finding people attractive. Suddenly Crowley was quite glad that the Bentley had decided to only play Queen; he didn’t like the idea of being stuck with _this _coming through the radio. He glared over at the phone, in an effort to convince the device to make better music choices.

The next song on the playlist was by the Beatles. Crowley couldn’t decide whether it was an up or a downgrade. Luckily, he didn’t have to spend long deliberating, as Bella paused the music only a few bars in, and once again addressed the class.

“Right, time for some tap.”

By now, Aziraphale was practically vibrating in excitement.

“The most basic move,” Bella continued, “is the tap.” She bent her knee slightly, so that her foot was hovering just above the ground, and slowly, so as to demonstrate, tilted her foot at the ankle until it hit the ground. “Of course, it should be done more like...” The action was repeated, faster this time, and the connection of tap shoe with floor created a clear tapping sound. “See?”

The class correctly took the ensuing silence as an invitation to try for themselves, and so for the next few minutes the air was filled with the sound of tapping, more muted at first as people didn’t raise their foot again properly, but eventually the women got the technique down.

For their parts, Crowley had managed to get it down after a few tries, and was now repeating the motion, increasingly slowly, to Aziraphale.

“Just move the ankle, angel.”

Aziraphale tried again, once more stamping with his entire leg.

“No, the...” Crowley sighed, lifting his leg to show, painfully slowly, how he was only moving the ankle. “See?”

Finally, Aziraphale slowed down, and copied Crowley’s movements exactly.

“Yes, now just do it faster...”

Aziraphale performed a successful, if somewhat over enthusiastic, tap. “I did it!” He beamed at Crowley, who couldn’t help but smile back.

Bella, who had been circling the women to check that no one had any problems, gave the celestial duo a nod. “Okay,” she said, “let’s move on to another move. How about a shuffle?”

The shuffle, as it turned out, consisted of neatly swinging the leg forwards and then back, this time using the knee. Crowley turned to watch Aziraphale’s first attempt, which he could immediately tell wasn’t going to go well. The angel had moved his entire leg backwards in preparation for the forwards swing, and the vigour with which he swung his leg created enough forwards momentum that Aziraphale’s whole body started to tip backwards, and Crowley had to step in and scoop the angel up to prevent him from ending up flat on his back.

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who was leaning over him as if the demon had dipped him, blushing slightly.

“I suppose I should be more calm.”

Crowley, face inches away from Aziraphale’s own, laughed. “You could say that,” he agreed, standing back up properly and bringing Aziraphale up with him.

Aziraphale took a step away from Crowley and tried to straighten out his t-shirt. The rest of the class, who had been staring at the pair, all suddenly decided they’d best be getting on with their tapping. Ready for another try, Aziraphale lifted his leg in a far more controlled manner, then did a slow shuffle.

“That’s more like it,” Crowley encouraged, trying out the move for himself. It wasn’t particularly complicated, but demons were well known for their lack of dancing ability, so Crowley couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of himself for mastering it in only a few tries.

The rest of the lesson was spent with the music on, practising a mixture of taps and shuffle ball changes, which was just a step back and forth after doing a shuffle, and, in Crowley’s opinion, didn’t need any fancy names. By the end of the hour, Crowley had finally managed to bend the playlist to his will, and the last set of tap step ball changes was done to Under Pressure.

“Same time next week,” Bella told everyone as they walked out of the studio.

Back in the foyer, Angelina and another woman walked over to a pair of teenagers, who looked as though they’d been in the previous class. Most of the other women had sat on a few nearby chairs, and were chatting together as they removed their tap shoes.

Aziraphale spotted one woman who’d sat separately from the rest, and walked up to her. “Hello,” he greeted, sitting down. “I didn’t catch your name before the lesson...”

“Jane,” the woman supplied, slipping her shoes off and retrieving a more street worthy pair from the bag next to her. Jane looked a bit younger than the other ladies in the class, in her late twenties or early thirties perhaps, and had brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

“Jane,” Aziraphale repeated, committing the name to memory. Crowley, who’d had the good sense to retrieve their bags of shoes from the seats they’d been placed on before the lesson began, got back from across the room, and gave Aziraphale his usual shoes. “Thank you, dear.”

“So,” Jane said, sitting back up and flipping her hair back over her shoulder, “What grade are your kids in?”

Aziraphale made a confused noise, then: “Oh!” he looked at Crowley, who was waiting for the perfect moment to sneakily miracle his laces tied, “no, we don’t have any children,” the angel explained, “I just found this place on the internet.”

“I assume you _do_ have children here, then?” Crowley sat back up, laces successfully tied.

Jane nodded. “My daughter just started in pre-primary. I thought this class might be a good way to get to know some of the other mums - and get some exercise in. So, are you two big on dancing?”

“You could say that...” Crowley muttered, thinking back on an entire day of Aziraphale’s growing excitement. “So, angel, what now?”

Aziraphale mulled the question over. “There’s a sushi restaurant near here that I’ve been to before, it’s absolutely delicious. And all this tapping has worked up quite an appetite.”

Aziraphale’s normal shoes were back on, so the angel and the demon both stood up. Jane, who had been ready to leave since before either of them, remained seated.

“I’m waiting on my husband,” she explained, sensing the unasked question, “he dropped me off. Finding parking round here is absolute hell.”

Crowley grinned. “You have no idea.”

— — —

The food at the sushi place Aziraphale had suggested was, of course, of top quality, but to Crowley the best part of the meal was the company. Aziraphale had engaged him in a long conversation about the tap videos that he’d seen on youtube between bites of food.

“It is really quite exciting to think, that with enough lessons we could both be doing all of those complicated moves,” the angel continued, taking a sip of his sake, “I think this might just be my new favourite style of dance... although, the dances you invented are all lovely, of course.”

Crowley snorted. Aziraphale was perhaps the only person in the world who would describe the demon’s set of simple, yet highly popular dance moves as ‘lovely’. Not even those in Hell had quite been able to appreciate the low level demonic influence he managed to spread with each Fortnite dance he popularised; upper management had never really got the appeal of irritating people until they decided to start sinning of their own accord. Although, perhaps they’d had the right idea this time round, because before deciding that going to Hell just wasn’t for him anymore, Crowley had caught glimpses of the younger demons flossing and dabbing, and had fallen victim to the irrational anger he himself had ensured would be caused by anyone witnessing the moves being pulled in public.

Crowley told as much to Aziraphale, who gave him a knowing, teasing smile. “Evil contains the seeds of its own destruction,” he reminded.

Rather than dignifying that with a response, Crowley took another sip of his drink (non-alcoholic, because having to sober up just for the five minute jaunt in the Bentley back to Aziraphale’s flat, where he was only going to get drunk again, was annoying and left a bad taste in the mouth).

Once Aziraphale had finally finished eating (the angel liked to savour every morsel, which led to extremely slow eating. Crowley had never really learnt patience in his 6000 years of existence on Earth, so one might think sitting around waiting as Aziraphale meticulously cut up his food and spent several seconds just appreciating the taste of every tiny bite would be almost painful, but Crowley was as soft inside as Aziraphale was soft outside, especially when it came to the angel, so he found that he could sit and stare for hours at a time), the two left, tipping almost as much as their food had cost, and returned, as Crowley had predicted, to the bookshop for a nightcap.

‘Nightcap’, to Aziraphale and Crowley, could range from a single glass to the average store’s entire stock of wine. Tonight was tending towards the latter.

Aziraphale had the head-start, but Crowley was less concerned with actually tasting what he drank, and so by the time the night was approaching being morning instead, both angel and demon were a glass or two shy of properly shitfaced.

Crowley was distracted from his important job of patting Aziraphale’s curls by a buzz in his pocket, which turned out to be his phone with a useless alert from an app that he hadn’t used in about a week, telling him his energy levels were full (or something; the demon could barely read by this point). He took a moment to bless the fact that he had decided to involve himself in the pay-to-win app industry, then noted the time. “Nyuhh, bedtime,” he announced.

Aziraphale drunkenly mumbled something that could have been agreement, and the two got to work on hefting themselves up from where they were slouched on the sofa, and trekking up the stairs to Aziraphale’s bedroom. The room was decorated much like the rest of the building, i.e., as though it had been furnished once when the shop was new and then never again, mostly because that was the case. The only exception to this rule was the bed itself, or at least the mattress and sheets, which were of the same stock as what Crowley had on his bed in his own flat, with a tartan colour scheme to fit Aziraphale’s aesthetic. Once they had arrived at the bed, Aziraphale and Crowley flopped down onto it as one, too tired and drunk to even change into bedclothes (although Aziraphale did miracle off his shoes, because he wasn’t an _animal_), and fell asleep right there on top of the covers, using each other instead of the duvet for warmth.

All in all, both Aziraphale and Crowley decided just before they drifted off, this had been a very successful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was chapter two! Featuring many run-on sentences, my disdain for the Top 40, and Crowley inventing the ‘can I speak to the manager’ haircut. Thanks to everyone who kudosed /commented /subscribed /etc., I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! All I can say in regards to my absence is ‘oof’, really. The last chapter didn’t do as well as I’d hoped - probably a combination of people being less interested and also ao3 deciding for some reason to backdate it a few days, meaning it never got to be on the front page so less people would see it. As a result, less interaction with the chapter => less motivation to write the next chapter => stopped updating for a few months. Oops!
> 
> I won’t guarantee that I’m gonna go back to my previous ‘one every few days’ updating schedule, mostly because real life is far more busy now than it was in August, but I’ll definitely try to get a chapter out maybe once every two weeks? We shall see.
> 
> However the updates end up going, enjoy this chapter!

Before Crowley knew it, it was once again time to take Aziraphale to the tap class. And himself, too, he supposed, but really he was there for something to do between giving his angel a lift.

Aziraphale was a lot more calm about the upcoming class than he had been last week, but no less happy to be attending it. In the short ride over to the school, he spotted two old ladies struggling to cross the road, a man whose groceries were about to break out through the bottom of the flimsy bag he held them in, and a cat stuck up a tree. Each issue was solved by a quick miracle.

Once arrived at the dance studio, Aziraphale put his good mood to use in greetings to more of the women. Crowley put up his customary complaints about such a display of friendliness, but tagged along anyway as Aziraphale walked up to a woman who looked somewhat familiar.

“Hello!” the angel greeted cheerily, “I didn’t have time to talk to you last week... what’s your name?”

“Mary.”

Crowley hummed. “You know, Mary,” he said, curiosity getting the better of him, “I feel as though we’ve met before.”

Mary squinted at the celestial duo. “No,” she said eventually, “I don’t think I recognise either of you.”

“Well, I’m Aziraphale, and this is Crowley,” the angel introduced, pointing to himself and the demon in turn.

Upon hearing the names, Mary perked up. “Ah! You wouldn’t happen to know my niece? Pepper? I was talking to my sister recently, and she mentioned that Pepper has been telling the most fantastic tales abouther friend having super powers, and she kept mentioning your names, calling you an angel and a demon!”

Aziraphale and Crowley shared an awkward look.

Before either of them could stick their foot in their mouth, Mary continued: “I never would’ve guessed that her story would be based in truth!”

“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale said, while Crowley laughed awkwardly, “the, the imagination of a child, eh? Where _do_ they get it from?”

“We’re friends of the new resident of Jasmine Cottage,” Crowley explained, “Anathema Device; I don’t know if you’ve met?” Mary shook her head. “Well, we’ve gone to the cottage a few times, so we’ve met Pepper.”

Mary nodded in understanding, opening her mouth to comment further, but the arrival of Moira cut her off.

“Anthony, Marigold,” the woman greeted, nodding to Crowley and Mary. She looked at Aziraphale for a second, then: “Paul.”

Moira was saved only by the few seconds longer it took Crowley to understand what had just happened than it took Aziraphale. In those few seconds, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, preventing him from launching into attack mode when he finally realised that Moira had just decided to rename Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale,” the angel in question corrected, with a smile that only just managed to be polite.

Before Crowley could enact any sort of revenge against Moira, the door to the dance studio opened, and the offending woman was distracted by the line of children that filed out. As Moira walked off, Mary gave a small sigh. “My full name is Marigold,” she explained, “but I prefer Mary.”

Crowley snorted. “So Moira can’t handle a name as long as Aziraphale, but she’ll deliberately lengthen Mary? Incredible.”

“I’m sure she just forgot,” Aziraphale said, in a tone that betrayed his true feelings on the subject. The angel shook his head, then gestured over to the open door, now clear of young girls. “Let’s get into the lesson.”

Once inside the dance studio, Crowley found it easier to put aside thoughts of rude women, if only because Aziraphale was so damn - blessed - excited to be in another dance lesson. The angel wasn’t quite at the vibrating in glee level he had been on the previous week, but his grin was threatening to split his face.

Bella greeted the class, then launched into a quick warm-up, similar in structure to last weeks, although she incorporated some taps and shuffles this time. Bella’s phone had remembered Crowley’s preferred music tastes, and so a Best of Queen playlist came through the speakers, instead of whatever was in the top 40 currently.

Once everyone was suitably warmed up, Bella paused the music - cutting off the ending of A Kind of Magic. “The first thing we’re going to learn today,” she told them, “Is a pick up step.”

The pick up step, Crowley decided, was quite a simple move. As Bella repeated the move she’d just demonstrated, this time at a faster pace, Crowley copied, placing his heel on the floor, toes raised just slightly, then he simultaneously tapped his foot down and moved his heel back and upwards. It was similar to the simple tap they’d previously learnt; if anything it was slightly easier to lift the heel than to keep it stationary.

Apparently Aziraphale also found this to be the case, as he managed to replicate the step successfully on only the second attempt.

After a quick walk round the room to assess everyone’s progress, Bella returned to her usual spot in front of the mirrors. “Good job, everyone,” she praised, prompting Aziraphale to beam at Crowley. “Now, we’ve learnt most of the basics, so let’s put some of those together into something a bit more complex.

“This,” she said, before launching into a relatively short sequence of moves that Crowley couldn’t quite identify. “Is a time step.”

Bella then repeated the time step, much slower this time. Now, Crowley could tell that it was indeed composed of a few of the moves that they’d already been taught. A shuffle, followed by a hop (not a move she’d had to teach, but Crowley was quite the expert at that particular move after having to rescue Aziraphale while in varying religious establishments), another hop - though this time from one foot to the other - then a tap, and finally a ball change.

“The way to remember this,” Bella said, “is to say to yourself... shuffle, hop, spring,” she performed each move as she said it, incidentally teaching Crowley that a fancy term for ‘hop but from one foot to the other’ existed, and that that term was spring, “tap, step, step. Now, you try.”

The whole class jumped into action, except Crowley, who took a second to run over the mnemonic in his head. Once satisfied that he’d remembered the steps, he started a slow, deliberate run through of a time step. It wasn’t pretty, the demon decided as he watched his attempt in the wall of mirrors, but it was workable.

Beside Crowley, Aziraphale had taken a different approach to his attempts. Namely, no time had been taken to remember the steps, or their order. As a result, the angel was only able to reach the hop before he started making mistakes.

“Need a hand?” Crowley asked, watching as Aziraphale shuffled, then sprang, then muttered ‘fiddlesticks’ to himself.

Aziraphale blinked, having been distracted from his latest failed attempt. “No,” he said after a brief pause, “I’ll get it eventually...” The angel returned to his attention to his feet, “Shuffle... hop... tap? No, spring...”

Crowley shrugged, and got back to work on speeding up his own time step. By the time everyone in the class had made significant progress - i.e. everybody could perform the moves in the right order with some consistency, no matter the speed - there were only a few minutes left of the lesson. Bella decided to give a taster of what was coming up next week, and proceeded to show off an interesting way of fitting taps into quite normal-looking steps, along with a fast, backwards travelling move comprised of pick-ups.

As the class adjourned, Aziraphale made his way overto Mary, who had split off to talk to another woman as the lesson began.

“This is Karen,” Mary introduced, “Karen, this is Crowley and Aziraphale. They’re Pepper’s imaginary friends.”

Karen laughed at that, and held out a hand for the duo to shake. As she did, a teenage girl in dancing uniform approached them.

“Can we go home now, Mum?” the girl asked plaintively.

“Just let me get my shoes on,” Karen replied, with an apologetic look to her new acquaintances. As the girl wandered over to the seats, Karen explained: “That’s my daughter, Paige. She’s in the class before ours.”

Crowley nodded understandingly. “I imagine sitting around is quite the chore at her age. We won’t keep you.”

Karen smiled, then she and Mary went to join Paige. Crowley waved them off, then, when no one was paying attention to the two anymore, miracled his usual shoes onto his feet.

“Come on then, angel.” the demon said, gesturing to the door. Aziraphale didn’t respond. “Angel?”

Crowley turned to the angel, who was staring at his own, still tap, shoes, and murmuring to himself: “Shuffle, hop... spring?”

The demon rolled his eyes, and took Aziraphale’s hand, using it to drag the distracted angel out of the building and down the street to where the Bentley was accumulating parking tickets. “You have plenty of time to practise between now and next week,” he said without heat. “Honestly angel, you can carry on when you get home.”

———

Crowley grabbed his phone out of his pocket, squinting despite his ever-present sunglasses as the screen lit up brightly in the dim room. As he’d suspected, it was no longer late at night, but early in the morning.

Faintly, from downstairs, there was a tapping noise. A deliberate, slow, and repetitive tapping noise.

_Shuffle, hop,_ Crowley’s mind supplied, unhelpfully. _Spring, tap, tap -_

“Bother,” Aziraphale’s voice, not particularly muffled by being on a separate floor, cut off Crowley’s thoughts, which were much less censored.

Crowley groaned, adjusting the pillow he had held to his head in an attempt to block out the noise. If only he didn’t have ears...

The demon sat up in bed, grinning at his own genius, then turned into his snake form, which didn’t have any ears. Unfortunately, he hadn’t considered that snakes were still capable of hearing, in the form of feeling vibrations, and so the problem was if anything _worse_ now. He wriggled around, displeased, then went back to being human, and gave up on being in bed.

“... hop, spring, tap... oh, hello Crowley!” Aziraphale, who knew that humans needed to sleep but had never seen why that would mean he should ever do it, gave Crowley a little wave as he noticed him walking down the stairs. He’d made a space for himself on the wooden bookshop floor, so his taps were especially loud.

“Angel,” Crowley said tiredly, “can you stop tapping? It’s two a.m.”

Aziraphale fixed the demon with an unimpressed look. “Crowley. If my practising is keeping you from sleeping, you could just go back to your flat.”

Crowley blinked, as if the idea had never occurred to him. Mostly because it _hadn’t_. And, he decided as he considered actually spending the night in his own flat, rather than with Aziraphale, it never would.

“Ngk,” he said eventually, realising that Aziraphale was still staring at him. The angel sighed, and miracled up a fluffy pair of earmuffs. “Oh.” Crowley wasn’t sure how he’d managed not to come up with that idea himself. He took the earmuffs. “Thanks,” he said, pleased when his voice sounded much quieter now.

Aziraphale watched Crowley tread back upstairs, a soft smile on his face. He stood there for a moment, then shook his head and returned his feet to a ready position.

“Shuffle, hop... spring...”

———

By the time the next lesson rolled around, Aziraphale had finally managed to perfect his time step, which was good for Crowley’s sleep schedule. The two avoided Moira before the lesson, opting instead to chat with Jane.

As promised, Bella taught the travelling moves she’d shown them at the end of the last lesson, and also gave them a fun variation on the shuffle, that went out to the side instead of keeping both feet together. It was easy to perform quickly, and when, done at a high enough speed, was very lively.

But before all that, Bella introduced time step variants.

At the mention of new, more complicated time steps, Aziraphale nearly let out a few choice, not particularly angelic, words. Thankfully, somewhere during his week of practise, he had evidently cracked the time step code, because adding an extra tap, or shuffle, into the mix didn’t complicate things for him too much.

Aziraphale was feeling pretty accomplished for having managed to nail so many moves in so short a time, and apparently Bella was impressed with everyone’s progress too, because at the end of the lesson, rather than just dismissing everyone as usual, she had an announcement.

“I know we’ve only had three lessons so far, but as most of you know, our show is coming up in a few months, so I was wondering if you want to have a dance in it?”

Chattering broke out pretty immediately between the women. Aziraphale grinned, and turned to look at Crowley, who looked distinctly less impressed.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Bella continued, once the noise had died down a bit, “and not everyone has to be in it; if only a few of you want to have a dance, I can work with that. I’m just letting you know now so we have time to put together a routine.”

The group was then dismissed as usual, separating back into small groups for post-dance chat.

“It’s a wonderful idea, don’t you think?” Azirapahle asked as he tied his shoes - sans miracles, this time. “The show, I mean. Putting together a full dance...” he trailed off, thinking back on those original tap videos he’d seen and imagining himself doing it.

Crowley gave a non-committal hum. “I’m not sure its for me,” he admitted eventually, “the whole being centre stage gig. I’m a demon; we lurk.”

Aziraphale tutted, opening his mouth to make some comment about sides and how Crowley of all beings couldn’t really use them as an excuse. Then he actually caught sight of Crowley’s expression, and closed his mouth again. The demon was clearly imagining a scene similar to that Aziraphale had pictured, though for Crowley the thought inspired distress, not excitement.

The two were silent as they left the studio, Crowley still imagining and Aziraphale pondering the right response. It was only as Crowley was starting the Bentley that the angel opened his mouth again, voice schooled into a casual tone.

“Well, of _course _you can’t be in the show too, dear.” Crowley jerked to attention at the words, with his signature ‘ngk’. Aziraphale smiled as he continued: “I need someone in the audience to show off the moves to, right?”

Crowley nodded, knowing an easy way out when he saw one. “I can get a video for you, too.”

Aziraphale smiled, genuinely pleasantly surprised. “That sounds wonderful.”

———

The next week, everyone had made their decisions as to who would be willing to dance in the show. Angelina was a large supporter of the idea, with Mary and Karen up for it too (“It’s a laugh, isn’t it”, Mary had commented, much to Angelina’s irritation). Moira was mostly indifferent, and Jane admitted that she suffered somewhat from stage fright, so probably wouldn’t join in on the day.

The rest of the lesson had passed normally; practising the moves they’d already done, and adding arm movements in for extra flair. Throughout, Bella played a selection of music, claiming to be scoping out an appropriate show song. With Crowley’s influence still effecting the speaker, it seemed the class would be dancing to Queen.

Leaving the studio this time, Crowley was less stressed and more willing to stick around, so when Aziraphale spotted Jane frowning as she talked to a man neither angel nor demon had seen before, the two wandered over to investigate.

“Anything we can help you with?” Aziraphale asked, smiling politely at the two. Crowley lingered a step behind the angel, glaring one of his more subtle glares at the newcomer.

“Oh!” Jane looked away from the man, looking slightly frazzled, “No, well, uh-“

“Maybe, if either of you knows anything about car repair?”

Jane nodded, looking grateful to have been interrupted. “This is my husband,” she introduced, gesturing to the man who’d just spoken. “Derek, this is Aziraphale and Crowley. You know, the couple I told you about.”

Derek’s eyebrows raised, and his eyes widened, in recognition.

“Did you mention car repair?” Aziraphale asked, not disputing Jane’s assessment of his and Crowley’s relationship, “Crowley here is rather fond of cars; has an original Bentley that he keeps in tip-top shape!”

As Derek started to look impressed by that statement, Crowley mumbled indistinctly about how the Bentley technically _wasn’t_ original now, then raised his voice to say, in an amicable tone: “I can take a look at your car for you, see if I can do anything.”

Jane’s frown dissolved into a smile. “Thank you so much,” she said, “Derek can’t get the car to start, but we need to be at the babysitters in half an hour to pick up my daughter, and with traffic and everything we’re already cutting it close...”

“Not to worry, Jane,” Aziraphale soothed as Derek led Crowley out to wherever he had parked, “I’m sure Crowley can fix it.”

And sure enough, by the time Aziraphale had been taken over to the car, Crowley had already fixed the problem.

“It’s amazing,” Derek told Jane as she approached, “He just took one look at it, and then he had a fiddle around under the hood, and it was fixed!”

“Ha, yeah,” Crowley laughed, running a hand through his hair, “Turns out it was a simple fix. The uhh...” He paused, hand still in hair, eyes behind his sunglasses flicking back and forth as he tried to remember something about cars that could sound reasonable. Or anything about cars at all. “Engine... wires... weren’t in properly...”

“Really?” Derek asked, leaning over to get a look under the hood, “I thought I’d checked them...”

“It was a, uh, minor problem.” Crowley shut the hood down just a tad quicker than necessary, “Easy to miss it.”

Derek nodded, impressed. “Well, thanks,” he said. “I owe you one.”

“Think nothing of it, _really_.”

Despite the edge to Crowley’s tone, Derek was not deterred. “You said you had a Bentley? Have you ever been to a vintage car show?”

“Can’t say I have,” Crowley admitted, curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, there’s gonna be one next weekend up in... tell you what, give me your number and I’ll text you the details.” Derek took Crowley’s offered phone and started transferring the number over to his contacts, “Me and a few friends are going, you could tag along with that Bentley of yours.”

Crowley took his phone back, and glanced over to Aziraphale, who smiled. “We’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might also end up with a weird publication date, given that when I went to post it, it had September 2019 as the date? For some reason? I’ll try not to let it cause a 4 month hiatus again if it comes to that lmao.


End file.
